


carry me home.

by saltedearthsch



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23962315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltedearthsch/pseuds/saltedearthsch
Summary: Friends don't let friends go home alone drunk.FRIENDS.Yup.JUST friends.
Relationships: Biggs (Compilation of FFVII)/Original Character(s), Biggs (Compilation of FFVII)/Original Female Character(s), Biggs/Original Character(s), Biggs/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	carry me home.

**Author's Note:**

> just a cute random self-insert fluff thing.
> 
> some of this might not make 100% sense if you don’t know the lore i’ve written for these two, so sorry about that! maybe one day i’ll finish and post that~
> 
> also: Bunnie is a nickname. just fyi.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

The sun was setting in the undercity, escaping to relief behind the monolithic structures of Midgar’s plates. All through the compressed streets of the Sector 7 slums the limited street lights flicked on, families shouted to wayward members about mealtime, and shopkeepers locked up their wares. Most of them at least, save a few whose businesses were like to thrive after twilight. This included, of course, the neighborhood haunt of Tifa’s Seventh Heaven. Music from the bar’s jukebox could be heard from behind illuminated windows and easy swinging doors. A few patrons enjoyed the night air outside, while the others lurked about the interior.

One such was a young woman, not much older than the beloved barkeep herself, slumped over the bar top looking positively morose. A scattering of shot glasses and tumblers surrounded the space where she lay with her head in her hands, while Tifa eyes her with no small amount of pity.

“‘nother one Tifa,” she mumbled into the wood grain, and the dark-haired girl sighed.

“I think you’ve had quite enough,” she chastised. The admonishment was met with a whimpering sigh, but Tifa just rolled her eyes and cleaned another glass.

“Hey Tifa!” The girl in question raised her eyes at the boisterous voice as two familiar faces crossed the threshold. Patting the other girl on the shoulder, she offered the men a smile and wave as they approached the bar.

“Hey Wedge! Hey Biggs!” She filled a glass with water and placed it just a touch too forcefully onto the counter next to the slumped girl as she gathered the empties. “Anything exciting happen with the Watch today?”

Wedge shrugged. “Not really. A few nasties tried to get through the junkyard but that’s about it. We took care of ‘em!”

Tifa smiled. “Well that’s good. What can I get you?” As her eyes slid to Biggs to ask him the same, she hid a small smirk. He was eyeing their bar companion, who had finally sat up enough to sip pensively at the water Tifa had left her, red strands slipping out of the bun on her head. “Biggs?”

“Just water for now. Thanks Tifa.” His gaze slipped back to the other girl almost immediately, a frown the other two recognized creasing his brows as he asked, “What’s up with her?”

Tifa grimaced and placed two glasses in front of them. “Apparently they,” she pointed toward the ceiling at the plate outside above their heads, “didn’t like her latest manuscript.”

Wedge frowned. “Really? I thought it was pretty good!”

“Guess they didn’t agree.”

“How many is that now? Four?”

“Six.” All three looked over at the wobbling sound of her voice. Sighing, she sat up and shoved the loose strands behind her ears. “Fuckin’ six times they said all my work was for nuthin.”

“You’ll win them over next time Andie! I know it!” Wedge said encouragingly but she just sighed and stared into the glass.

“They’re gonna drop m’ contract if I don’t give ‘em something soon... Been too long since my last one.” She swayed slightly and caught herself on the bar. The other two didn’t miss the twitch in Biggs as he stopped himself from reaching over to her.

“Okaaayyyy!” Tifa said, sidling over to Andie and clapping her on the shoulder. “I’m cutting you off.”

“Hey! ‘m not d-done!” 

“Oh yes you are. Besides, you’ll go broke at this rate. Don’t you still need to pay rent?” Tifa scolded. Andie just grumbled. “This isn’t like you either! If you’re going to mope, go home and sleep it off, okay?”

Andie sighed and slumped over again. “I dun wanna go alooooone.”

“Where’s Jessie? She can take you.”

“Don’t know.”

“I’ll take her.” Biggs looked slightly surprised, as if even he hadn’t expected himself to offer, but shrugged. “She really shouldn’t go alone, and we can’t just leave her here to wait for Jessie.”

“Are you sure?” Wedge started. “You did a lot today, I can—“ He coughed as Tifa elbowed him.

“You know what,” she said slowly, smiling as she shot Wedge a _look_ , “that’s a great idea! Thanks Biggs.” 

“I-I’ll stay here in case Jessie comes back! Let her know what happened,” Wedge added hurriedly, catching on. Andie glanced blankly up at him as Biggs approached, her face flushed and eyes red. 

“Ready to head home, Bunnie?” She grimaced and he watched as another shade of red flooded into her cheeks.

“Nooooo, ‘m stayin’ right _here_.” She tried to sit up straighter in challenge and swayed again. Biggs caught her easily and sighed.

“No you’re not. Doctor Tifa’s orders.” Before she could complain again he’d pulled her chair back and tugged her gently from it, looping one arm around her waist and hoisting one of hers across his shoulders. Now that she was caught, Andie seemed to give in, leaning against him when her heeled boots proved too unstable. He glanced at the others. “We’re heading out.”

“Be safe!” Tifa called, smirking at Wedge as the doors swung shut.

* * *

Though it was still stuffy as ever with smog, the night air seemed to do his charge a world of good. By the time they’d crossed the road to the weapons shop, Andie was leaning on him a little less and walking more or less in a straight line. She stayed quiet though, her eyes focused on the ground. It was only when he nudged her for occasional directions (as if he didn’t know exactly where she lived) that she offered even a few mumbled words of conversation.

Finally they stopped outside the familiar rundown house she shared with Jessie, the porch light lending a faint buzz to the otherwise quiet night. It was only now, in the harsh fluorescence, that he could truly _see_ the state she was in, and Biggs felt a surge of frustration rush over him. Her hair was messy, loose strands brushing her neck and cheeks, a few even matted to her skin. Black stained her face around her red eyes, further evidence of the tears she must have shed before he and Wedge arrived at the bar earlier. Even her posture spoke to her weariness, shoulders slumped beneath her familiar jacket. Andie shifted beside him, and he remembered abruptly that standing outside was not the goal of the evening.

“Here,” he held out his hand, “give me your keys.”

She glanced away. “Don’t have them.” Her voice was still slurred, though now he wondered how much of it was the need for rest that clung to her.

“What?”

“Jessie has them. Was s’posed to be home ‘fore me…” Biggs sighed and shook his head.

“Got a spare then?” Lazily, her hand jerked upward toward the door frame. Reaching up he slid his hand along the worn wood until he found his target, pulling the key from its hiding spot. Shoving the screen aside, he did his best to ignore the way she leaned against him as he unlocked the front door.

“Come on,” he prompted quietly, grabbing her hand without thinking to pull her across the threshold behind him. She stumbled on the slight step, mumbling apologies as he grabbed her around the waist again, chuckling more when she blushed slightly. It lasted only a moment, though, and then she had collapsed onto one of the dining chairs and slumped onto the table. 

“Bunnie,” he prompted and she groaned.

“Stop that!” Her tone was childish and demanding, smacking the table for emphasis. She eyed him, cheek pressed to the tabletop, as if in consideration.

“You need to sleep.” It was almost as if they were back at The Leaf House again, that familiar stern edge he’d used with the children coming back as she glared petulantly. “Which room is yours?”

She sighed, glancing at the floor now, offering only the helpful hint of, “Left.”

Biggs thanked the planet she resisted just a bit less as he helped her up this time, guiding her through the sparse living space to the door she kicked open in the hall. The sight of it seemed to change her demeanor almost immediately, and Andie shook him off to stumble across the floor and collapse onto her bed. He leaned on the doorframe, watching as she sighed blissfully and spread her limbs as if she would make a snow angel in the bedding.

“Shouldn’t you take off your makeup or whatever?” He watched her roll across the mattress, head lolling off the edge so she was watching him upside down. 

“What are you, my dad?” Though she snapped the words she was smirking at him and he rolled his eyes.

“No, but I am trying to make sure you take care of yourself, Andie.” She was quiet for a moment before she flipped upright and shrugged.

“Fiiiine.” First to go were her boots, almost ripped off in her haste to be rid of them. Then she shrugged off her jacket and tossed it to an unknown corner. Satisfied that her most cumbersome clothing was removed, she shoved herself into standing and brushed past him to the bathroom. Listless, he followed, telling himself it was in part to make sure she wasn’t still drunk enough to actually drown herself in there.

By the time the ruined mascara and other signs of her intoxication were wiped from her face, it was obvious she was feeling more sober. Rubbing the last of her lotion into her skin, she wandered back into the bedroom and sat down. 

“Will you be alright?” He asked when she let herself flop back onto the bed.

“Mmhm,” she hummed, singsong. Fumbling, she tugged on the fastenings in her hair, letting it tumble towards the floor, and sighed with relief. 

“Okay. Get some rest, then. I’ll let Jessie know you made it home alright.” Pushing away from the door, he dug his hands into his pockets, uncertain. “And if you need to talk, let us know. _After_ you sleep it off. Got it?”

“W-wait!” Andie was sitting upright on the bed now, watching him nervously with her lip between her teeth. “You’re leaving?”

“That was the plan.” A long pause.

“Can you stay?” Her voice was thick with something unknown, and her eyes had dropped to where her fingers traced the sheets. “I, uh… You don’t have to.”

For a moment he considered it. Really, genuinely decided if stealing a few moments with her was worth Jessie’s inevitable ire if she found them. It was already bad enough that someone might have seen him go in with her, might have come to their own conclusions. She didn’t need those coming back to haunt her - she had dealt with enough today. He opened his mouth to say so, to insist that he needed to leave, but the words stuck when he saw her reach out for him.

“Please?” If he hadn’t watched her lips form the word, caught the trip of the syllables in the air between them, he could have pretended he didn’t hear them. But he had, and could see in her eyes that she knew it too. So instead of answering, he crossed the room, letting her fingers wrap around his wrist as she shuffled to make room for him.

“I can’t stay long,” he said finally, the words feeling weak and flat as they left his mouth. They received no response, and instead her fingers slid down to lace with his. He felt more than saw as she leaned into his shoulder, a sigh different from the others that had passed her lips ghosting across his neck. 

Common sense told him he should push her away - kindly - and force her to go to sleep. He could stay until she did, he reasoned, make sure the consequences of her earlier binge didn’t put her in danger. At least until Jessie came home to relieve him of that duty. Anything more was teetering dangerously close to territory he was very certain he didn’t want to consider when she was depressed and at least somewhat intoxicated. This of course led to the realization that were she not in such a spiral, he might have otherwise welcomed this invitation, and that brought on a whole new wave of tension.

“Biggs.” Andie’s voice was hushed and far too close for comfort. Tilting his head, he found hazel eyes peering up at him, something in her gaze locking him in place. The pain and sadness she’d held all evening were still there, but faded sparks now. 

“Andie…” She wasn’t listening, instead situating herself across his lap, fingers gliding across the familiar green threads of his shirt before one set slipped around the back of his neck, the other tightening around his shoulder. Inhaling sharply, he grabbed at her hips and froze as instinct warred with logic for the briefest moment. 

He didn’t even get a chance to think it over. Before he could open his mouth, it was covered by hers, fierce and desperate. There was almost a manic edge to the way Andie pressed her lips to his and wound her fingers into his hair. It would be a lie to say the temptation wasn’t there as her body shifted again, leaning against his and making his breath hitch. But that was exactly the reason he knew he couldn’t let her do this, not now. She was just seeking some small comfort after the day’s events, and he knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if he let her. Maybe she wouldn’t forgive him either. Damn it all if feeling her sigh and melt even closer didn’t strain his resolve just a bit, and for a split second he wavered, considering just giving her what she wanted and--

Then he was pulling her body away from his, frowning at her and cursing his own rampant heartbeat. 

“Andie, stop it. What are you doing?” 

“I…” The admonishment seemed to break whatever spell had overtaken her, and she deflated. With a small sob she crumbled against him in a completely different way now. Her grip loosened and he felt her bury her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry. It’s… Today sucked.”

“I know,” Biggs murmured, one hand finding a spot on her back to smooth across her shirt. “You really should rest.” 

“Yeah.” Carefully, he helped her unwind her limbs from around him and once they were untangled she slid across the comforter. She kept her eyes focused away from him, mortification plain in every movement she made to slide under the sheets. With her back to him, her voice was muffled as she finally asked, “Will you stay?”

“Until Jessie gets home. She’d kill me if I left you alone.” He swore she shifted slightly, as if curling in on herself at the words.

“Yeah,” her voice was weak again, “she would.” 

“What happened today?” He finally asked, when she didn’t say anything else and the silence made his skin itch. “You’ve had rejection before, Bunnie, but it’s never hit you like this.”

“I don’t know,” Andie replied. “I guess I was really proud of this one. I thought they would be too -- _hoped_ they would. But I should’ve known better. It’s been years since the last time my editor actually said she liked something I wrote it and it felt sincere.” Her words had grown bitter as she spoke and when she rolled over, staring at the ceiling now, frustration had creased her face.

“I still remember the first time they published me. Way back when I was just a useless freelancer reading to kids once a week.” She paused, eyes flicking to him and back again. “They seemed so excited, so happy to bring me on board, despite where I’d come from. I was _so_ proud. I felt like my work had proven itself, proven that people like us could be worth something more than where we laid our head. And every time since I’ve chased that feeling, but it wanes every time. No more praise, no more congratulations, just ‘When will you turn it in? Will you meet the deadline? Can you make these changes?’” Her lip caught between her teeth, and he could see the start of tears in her eyes again.

“I’m supposed to be living my dream. All I ever wanted was to write, ever since I was little. Before Shinra fired my father, before we lost our home, before I could even really write a story at all. This should be everything I wanted and I just feel… sad. Empty.” Andie’s shoulders shook with the rattling sigh she let out, pulling her knees to her chest and gripping them like a life preserver.

“I feel ungrateful complaining, like I’m spitting in the face of this golden opportunity I was given. I feel selfish wanting more, I feel defeated when I pour my fucking soul into six _goddamn_ manuscripts and they can’t even give me the news in person!” Her head dropped, muscles clenching as she curled in tighter on herself, as if the action could hold her together. Biggs let himself put a hand on her shoulder as she muttered, “I just wanted them to keep being proud of me. I wanted to give _everyone_ a reason to be proud of me. Instead I’m just another broken Shinra cog.”

“Hey, hey,” he scolded, tightening his grip on her shoulder. “Don’t you dare talk like that.”

She scoffed. “Why not? It’s true.”

“That’s a load of shit and you know it.” Hazel eyes peeked up at him, startled at the venom in his voice. “You know what topsiders are like. Even if you impress them once, all they want is _more_ . If what you did the first time was great, they want phenomenal, but _their way_. And the Andie I know would never be happy just writing whatever those pricks told her to.

“I still remember the stories you used to tell those kids. I’ve read the stuff you’ve done these days too. Whatever those publishing pricks said to you isn’t true. They’re just refusing to acknowledge that a writer from the slums can live up to what they have in mind, and I don’t think you fit that. You’re too damn good for them.”

A choked laugh bubbled up from her throat. “You’re just being nice because you’re my friend.”

Biggs shrugged. “I’m probably a little biased. But hey, I can think of at least three people who are damn proud of what you’ve done the last few years. And I’m one of them.”

“Thank you,” she whispered and he hummed. She fell silent again, still staring at her sheets and knees with grim contemplation. It wasn’t until she shifted, a tightly wound spring coming loose, that he remembered his hand was still on her shoulder. He hesitated for a second before offering her a comforting squeeze and pulling away.

“You should probably get some rest. We’ll get the gang together and do something tomorrow. Take your mind off things.” She slid down until she was craning her neck against the pillow to look up at him.

“Won’t you and Wedge be busy with the Watch?” 

Biggs gave her one of his smiles that told her he had some sort of plot coming. “Don’t worry about that. They can handle themselves for a day.”

She giggled. “Are you sure about that?”

“Well, we are pretty important. Maybe we should just leave you in this dark dingy room to wallow in misery by yourself.” Andie pouted, sticking her tongue out at him like a child.

“Ass.”

“Brat.”

Something warm and familiar had slipped into her smile and her eyes, easing the knot of worry that had sat in his chest since he found her at Tifa’s. Reaching out again, he placed his hand on her head. Finally she seemed to be at least a bit more like her usual self. When her eyes slipped closed he pulled back, settling back against the wall. He intended to just keep an ear out for Jessie’s arrival, but it wasn’t long before the day had caught up with him too. One moment he was watching the strip of hallway light, and the next it all went dark.

* * *

Feet pounded the dirt of the Sector 7 slum, forcing sharp breaths from her lungs as Jessie hurried home from the Seventh Heaven. She had spent the day scouting for materials for their next mission, only to come home to Wedge’s news about Andie. Though he had been quick to add that Biggs had taken care of her friend and roommate, she couldn’t help worrying. 

She was far from blind - in fact Jessie was one of the sharpest tools in the AVALANCHE shed some might argue. So it hadn’t taken a genius to figure out from the moment she introduced them that something was up between Biggs and Andie. A late night confessional had gotten the long-held truth from Andie easily enough, and though her “colleague” liked to act the part of aloof hero, she had seen the same in him. He cared, but he wasn’t going to push it. Knowing him, he might have dropped her off and left, thinking the distance a better idea.

Her fingers fumbled with her keys until she managed to get the door unlocked, letting it swing shut behind her. She barely paid any mind to where they landed as she chucked them at the table and headed toward her friend’s room. The entry and small dining-living space had been empty, leaving little other option. So she pushed the cracked door open quietly and squinted into the darkness. What she saw surprised her, but she said nothing and backed out, closing the door behind her.

Just before she turned back to her own room, she grabbed a pen and paper, wandering back into the dining room. She jotted a quick note on the page and tossed it onto the table. Hopefully that gun-toting fool would see it in the morning.

And he did. After he had untangled his fingers from hers (she must have grabbed his hand while they were asleep), and gently nudged her head back onto the pillow instead of his leg (she probably shifted in her sleep - not that he had any idea). Snatching the paper from the dining table, he crushed into a ball and hoped the smoggy Midgar morning would clear his head.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you as always for reading! Please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments, or you can find me on Twitter @saltedearthsch!


End file.
